Post-war Relations
by sundiallove2
Summary: Eight years after the Battle of Hogwarts, tension is running high between wizarding folk in Britain. The brilliant Ministry of Magic has another fantastic solution. M Law. EWE?


Summary: Eight years after the Battle of Hogwarts, tension is running high between wizarding folk in Britain. The _brilliant_ Ministry of Magic has another fantastic solution. M Law. EWE?

Disclaimer: This story uses characters and ideas from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series. I am not making any profit from this story.

Chapter 1

Draco spent 20 hours a week working as an unspeakable and the rest of his time managing Malfoy holdings in various companies, traveling to countries, other than the one he was hated in, for social events and playing Quidditch with potential business partners. Nothing like Quidditch to get everyone feeling chummy. Ironically, he was approached as a potential employee for the obscure Department of Mysteries after an article in the daily prophet came out stating he _really should be in Azkaban_. Some wanker had released his interview with the aurors after the war. It cited him as an accomplished occlumens. The nosey correspondent had mentioned that even the famous, talented, courageous Harry Potter couldn't break into his mind during the interview. _Harry Potter! The boy who produced a patronus at 13!_ He failed to mention that Potter was never in attendance at his interview because at the time Potter was a 17-year-old boy and was not, in fact, an auror. Yet. Ugh. He also failed to include the fact that the Pothead had no affinity for legilimency whatsoever. The Scar face was never put into interviews now either. He was more of a follow and capture kind of guy from what Draco had heard of the department. And he was so excellent at his job too! Famous loved by everyone Potter. Prodigious Quidditch player Potter! Incredibly modest, but oh so handsome according to Witch Weekly. Ugh.

Anyhow after confirming his capabilities with secret keeping and the fact that he fixed a vanishing cabinet, Draco was called in to work as an unspeakable which was perfectly fine by him. He had thought about working in one of the other departments, perhaps in magical law to increase his power and standing in the community but his name behind anything seemed to stir trouble with the ponces in charge of the ministry today. Luckily, the Malfoy name still held clout in the rest of the world where no one had families members who had been tortured or murdered in his family home. His businesses overseas were prospering. In turn, the Wizengamot of England had to let him keep his family seat because the government needed his money. He thought of moving to France where he'd spent many childhood summers but couldn't seem to abandon his mother who was on house arrest at Malfoy Manor for another two years. Even then, he was sure she wouldn't leave as her father was on house arrest for life. His wand was held at the Ministry of Magic for the first five years, it was meant to be definite but Draco knew there was room to negotiate. If they weren't open to negotiation they would have snapped it. He bought it with an 800,000 galleon donation to the Department of Magical Cooperation. The papers were bought off so the public wouldn't know. He was quite tired of being spat at in the street. None of the spit ever reached him of course, the cravens only ever cursed him from a distance, but now...

Draco thought he was going to vomit. After all of this time successfully avoiding people he knew during the war, here he was on his way to meet Hermione Granger. Book worm, bushy head, buck-toothed Granger. At least she had fixed her teeth. With his assistance. An arranged marriage was one thing, but this really was overboard. The minister for magic was no friend of his, so sure why not find the worst possible match for him. However, if Draco recalled correctly, and he was sure that he did, Granger fought side by side with said minister. On the golden side of friendship and hugs and avada kedavra love shields! That was supposed to make her and Minister Kingsely close whilst keeping himself and Granger NOT close. Definitely not engaged. Oh, remember that manor you were tortured in? Wouldn't it be great if you could marry the man that owned that home? It had a lovely garden, didn't it? Wouldn't it be great if the ministry could force the two of you to copulate? You could save the whole world by having blond babies golden girl! Wouldn't you like that goody too shoes? Saving people's souls with a grand show of unity!? Saving the whole world? Again.

Why else would she be placed with a man marked by the dark mark. The daily prophet was going to have a field day. Their picture was likely to be plastered to the front page for weeks with a photograph slowly closing in on their intertwined arms, the dark mark just grazing the word Mudblood engraved on her arm. Oh, how he was looking forward to helping everyone else move past the war whilst dragging himself back into it. Some lesser people had never left it behind he supposed. It ended eight years ago, for Merlin's sake he bloody well wished they would.

If past encounters were anything to go by she wouldn't be alone either. Regardless of the fact that this particular situation had nothing to do with Pothead or the Weasel whatsoever. He supposed they were each meant to bring a witness, which was why Blaise was walking beside him pointedly ignoring his inner fuming. Blaise's match was certainly interesting. Or enlightening rather. The marriage law was meant to pair purebloods with half bloods and mudbloods and Blaise had been paired with Susan Bones. The Bones family were a part of the Sacred 28 and while Blaise's mother was pure, his father had always been an unknown paramour of hers. Draco had been suspicious of his friend's blood status since 6th year when he told him the Dark Lord was staying at the Manor. Now it was confirmed, although really Draco wasn't sure where the ministry drew the line, all of the pureblood families had come from muggles originally. They were only superior now because of their family magic and anyways their ancestors built an entire world apart from the muggles. A world that Draco intended to preserve. A world that was threatened by every muggle that knew about it. If it came to war, muggles would have the numbers.

Regardless of Blaise's status, his mother's ancestors helped build this world and as far as Draco knew if Blaise's father was a muggle, he didn't know about magic. Draco enjoyed finally having the answer to that question out in the open after over two decades of friendship. Blaise was his best mate and no information about his birth was going to change that.

Hermione was stressed. The last time she had had sex was with Ron. Her friend. Ron. They had started dating after the war. Then they stopped because really who can stand that much fighting? Then they realized everyone treated them as celebrity trophies instead of people, which Ron enjoyed for a couple of years before feeling like a quaffle on a public quidditch field that couldn't fly anywhere without getting grabbed at. Hermione did not enjoy her romantic life during that time as everyone she dated wanted to hear about the war and what the trio had been looking for on the run. She, Ron, and Harry had decided not to spread any information about the horcruxes. Whenever someone asked why Harry hadn't confronted Voldemort sooner they said he was training, seeing as he was a 17 year old boy and Voldemort was the most powerful dark wizard in history. Power which was apparently accounted for by how many human beings one murdered. Hermione didn't think that was the best measure but she was also uninterested in reading about all the dastardly deeds of other dark wizards in order to establish a new metric so she kept that opinion to herself.

This law was horrible. First they couldn't choose their own partners. Second they were trying to use her and Harry and Ron as some kind of beacon of unity and she did not appreciate it one bit. Hadn't they done enough? Did risking your life not count for as much as spending a lifetime in miserable company? She really should have just married Ronald. After he tired of the hero chasing bimbos he decided once again that he was madly in love with her and after a few months of dating proposed. It was rash and unplanned. He hadn't bought a ring and he admitted to her the thought was one freshly formed in his mind earlier that day, but 'Mione didn't it just make sense? He never was good at reading her emotions. But now. But now she was engaged to Malfoy. She would be sneered at everyday for the rest of her life. She used to try to prove she was good enough to be a part of the magical community. She tried to prove it in school. Tried to prove it to him. That was before she realized that opinions formed under unjust prejudice wouldn't change when provided with evidence to contrary.

It was frustrating. Humiliating. Disorienting. If she didn't belong here, and she didn't belong in the muggle world, where was she supposed to go? She determined several years prior that the world would have to change. That she would have to change it to make a place for herself. She currently worked in the Ministry's Department for Relations with Magical Creatures. She saw herself as one really. She thought once about drawing up laws to specify muggleborns as their own group with rights but thought it would be no better than the muggleborn registry. Segregation only made people see us and them, a dangerous mentality that had caused pain in the magical and muggle community alike. Since the wizarding community went into hiding in the 12th century fear had only increased. Why shouldn't it? They were in hiding. No one hides without reason.

She had read about it in A History of Muggle Wizarding Relations in Britain by Gwendolin Rigby, the least biased text she could find. Most texts were heavily swayed in one direction or the other, either muggles vicious and bent on destroying the wizarding community or wizards were in hiding so purebloods wouldn't have to interact with disgusting filth that wasn't worth their time. Rigby was an excellent source of knowledge and Hermione had begun a lovely penpal relationship with her. Rigby was currently in the States learning about magic and no-mag relations there. It was a bit less charged with ideas of birthright since even the muggles has no class system. Rigby had written her first published essay on family magic.

A topic Hermione thought was quite bogus and prejudice until the Weasleys had used Prewett family magic to bring Fred back. The concept behind the Prewett family magic, according to Molly, was to share everything that you have to make every member of the family strong. She had planned to share the remainder of her life with Fred. Meaning, she would die and he would live for as long as her body could have survived. However, when the rest of her children found out they decided they should each give him ten years. It was unclear to Hermione how exactly that worked, how could death know how long each of them had? Fred came back though, and he was still living and now happily married to Katie Bell. George had married Angelina and the twins were trying to time their children to be born on the same day-much to their wives' irritation. Given that Arthur did not have any Prewett blood, Fred should have another 52 years. Fred felt so terrible and George so grateful that the twins had stopped pranking their family members entirely. This, of course made, Ron and Percy, the two usual prankees, very happy. However, Hermione, Harry, Lee, Angelina, and Katie, were more on their guards than ever before.

Hermione was, of course, thrilled Fred was alive but sometimes… Sometimes she remembered that she had no family magic. She didn't understand how it worked. She supposed it was similar to transfiguration. An object that had been transfigured before would be easier to transfigure again than an object that had never changed form at all. By this principle, blood that had used magic before should be able to use it more easily again. It made sense to a degree. Unfortunately, it would also then hold true that individuals who come from magical families should be able to perform magic more easily than individuals whose families have not performed magic. Therefore, Hermione hated that explanation. Though the bottom line was that wizarding families had magic that only their blood could perform. There had been attempts in the past for families to trade their magics, but no one outside of their blood was capable of performing the spells. It upset her more than anything else in the wizarding world because it couldn't be learned without blood. It was just asking to help people form prejudice. Speaking of prejudice she was on her way to meet Draco Malfoy.

Harry was there to give her away to him. To give her away. Which led Hermione to the third worst part of this marriage law, the purpose of this marriage law: consummation and procreation. Not only did she have to marry Malfoy, but while she was still at childbearing age, she was meant to have a minimum of four children. AND because the magical world liked to be as archaic as possible whenever Hermione was in a particularly irritating situation, the marriage had to be consummated within 12 hours of the binding. How lovely. Hermione was supposed to give Harry away the following day, to Daphne Greengrass. Ginny was paired with Michael Corner, an alright Ravenclaw though Hermione didn't know him well. Ginny had been devastated. After years of on again off again with Harry she had been sure they would be paired. Hermione was sad for her friend but didn't tell her Harry had been relieved. As much as both of them loved the Weasley family it never felt like it was theirs.

Several men, and women, stared as the two of them walked through the ministry. Silence as they walked by and bursts of whispers once they were out of earshot. It had been like that since the end of the war. Now it was worse. Hermione was sure they were wondering who she and Harry were paired off with and it was more than obvious Hermione was being bound in matrimony today. Why was it obvious? Probably the wedding dress. Her mother had been planning it since the day Hermione was born and now she wasn't even allowed to attend because it was taking place inside of the Ministry for Magic. Her mother was devastated. Her father was furious. They tried to convince her to snap her wand and join the muggle world. She was intelligent enough she could find a job there but she didn't want to. No. She couldn't. Magic was a part of her she was not willing to give up. So here she was at 4:45pm walking through the ministry to make it to a five o'clock appointment after spending all day primping with her mum. She was in perfectly traditionally muggle wedding attire, corset, garter and all. Ginny assured her that it wasn't much different in the wizarding world.

She had thought about undoing all of her mum's efforts before showing up just to spite Malfoy but she would rather not have him insult her looks while bedding her and so here she stood looking as fresh as ever. After hours of spa time with Ginny and her mother, her hair and nails shone and her mother's pearls dangled from her ears. If he still called her ugly, well, she knew plenty of hexes.

The vows and binding took all of two minutes. They vowed to be faithful. To not harm one another. To have children. The rest of the intricacies had been taken care of over the course of the last month, proceedings began shortly after the announcement was first made.

Hermione had met with Draco's lawyer on several occasions. She was to have access to a small account with a set sum of money each month. Hermione claimed she wouldn't need anything from him. However, the lawyer insisted and since there were no strings attached to said money other than the obvious marriage, Hermione didn't put too much effort into stopping it. Hermione would not have ownership of any of the Malfoy estates, magical objects or magical creatures. That last bit made her furious as no one should own sentient creatures but that was a battle she lost. None of the archaic stipulations she had prepared for were brought up but she made sure her expectations were clear. She was going to have her career. He was going to have no say in it. All the money she earned would be her own. They would have sex when both parties were interested and children when both parties were ready, regardless of the ministry's clauses surrounding fidelity and procreation.

They weren't required to live together but Draco's lawyer made clear his opinion that they should get used to one another before having children. Ironic seeing as they could be getting used to one another if he had bothered to show up to any of the meetings setting up their marriage. Hermione agreed anyways as she didn't ever want her children to be living for days at a time with the Malfoys. He had sent a house elf to pick up her things earlier that morning to be moved into her new room in his flat. She was sure it would need some work.

Wizarding weddings didn't require a kiss for sealing as the two involved parties each already took an unbreakable vow. For this Hermione was grateful since she didn't really want to kiss Malfoy in front of Harry. She didn't want to kiss Malfoy at all. Well, she was a Malfoy now but, that really wasn't the point. She didn't want to kiss Malfoy. Didn't want to look at Malfoy. Didn't want to talk to Malfoy. So instead, she walked back over to Harry.

Draco looked on in disbelief. He had just bound himself to Granger. He had expected an awkward conversation to take place after. Or a heated one if either one of them pissed the other off but all she did was walk away from him as quickly as possible. He turned to Blaise who clearly found his situation amusing. Draco sent him a rude gesture in return before walking toward Saint Potter. And the other one. His wife. They were standing by the floo chimney that Draco and Blaise had taken on their way in. He supposed they had opened the floo to that particular room for discretion. Blaise left first. Potter said he was heading back to work for a bit but still didn't leave. They were holding hands even. For merlin's sake Draco wanted to punch him. Who holds the hand of another man's wife at the binding ceremony?! The ministry official was also lingering clearly trying to see if Draco would punch Potter in the face. However after silence extended for a minute or two the official called out "Remember, 12 hours," before leaving the room.

Granger looked at Harry once more and he gave her small hug. Then gave Draco an oh so familiar glare and surprisingly reached out to shake his hand. Draco returned the gesture. It was the kind of handshake where it seemed both parties wanted to use their hand to shake the other party's neck but a handshake all the same and then Potter was gone as well.

One quick glance and then Hermione stepped into the fireplace, called out the address he told her and disappeared. Draco followed.

They appeared in his bedroom which was large and elegant with wood floors, ornate furniture, large windows and what appeared to be a balcony though it was obscured by silk drapes. She didn't have the same hopes for her own bedroom. He poured two glasses of double fire whiskies and held one out to her. It was strange, although they had spoken vows they still hadn't actually spoken to one another.

He took off his cloak. She took a large swig of whisky. And promptly choked. He laughed. She glared.

"I usually drink wine." She clarified. That or she liked muggle beers. Not as sweet as butterbeer, not as strong as firewhiskey, but she certainly wasn't going to say that to him. She looked down at her dress and cast a scourgify wishing she hadn't used the floo. Then again, she did just make an unbreakable vow to spend her life with this man. It was unlikely he would drop dead allowing her to wear the dress again. He lit a fire with his wand and sat down to undo his tie. His clothing was as luxurious looking as the room they sat in and Hermione wondered if all the furniture was as comfortable as it looked. She wondered if it was all charmed against staining and accidental magic, and deformation from time. Her favorite couch during childhood sagged where her Dad liked to sit in it until they had to get a new one. Even if they hadn't had to get rid of the couch for sagging, they would have lost it when Hermione had erased herself from their memories and sent them to Australia. To protect them from death eaters. Hermione finished her drink. Draco followed suit and broke the silence with a single word.

"Ready?" And the stress Hermione felt earlier that day returned a thousand fold. No. She was not ready. She wasn't going to be ready anytime in the next 12 hours though so perhaps she could deflect.

"You're not ready. You need to be…" She had thought to break the tension with a quick joke but her Gryffindor bravery failed her. Completely. "You know…" He looked confused by her statement causing her to blush before she continued. She had made a similar comment to Ron once after they had had quite a bit to drink and he was trying to convince her to mess around but couldn't get it up. Malfoy was not Ron. "Your, um- it needs to be… up," she finished, hating herself for not only telling a bad a joke, but telling it horribly and with a stammer. She looked just below his belt for emphasis before tearing her eyes away and turning her body towards the window. It was the first sentence she said to him in years, the first sentence she said to him as his wife. And she made a joke about erectile dysfunction. Well done, Hermione. When the silence continued she glanced behind her to make sure he was still there. She wanted to be upset by the look of disbelief on his face but the fact that she couldn't say hard or penis right before they were going to have sex made her unenthusiastic about stringing together an additional sentence.

"I'm sure my… _it_ will be _up-_ " his speech was interrupted by a brief but significantly haughty scoff "once we've actually done something." He was facing her from where he was sitting, could see the twisting of her fingers and bouncing in her toes. She was nervous. He'd known she would be but thought she would have hid it better; he certainly had, but then she was a mudblood. And there inlaid his problem. He'd slept with plenty of women before, more beautiful, more respectable, on top of which he actually had to convince them to sleep with him- Granger was a done deal. Well she wasn't exactly a Granger anymore but that was beside the point. He knew that the murder from the war wasn't justified, someone's parents could not define everything that they would become, and yet, she was still-

"Can we just do it? I'd like to finish so I can- we can move on with our days… or nights or sleep… or something."

"Bed or window sill?" a smile was tugging at his lips, the bloody wanker. Here she was so nervous she had to keep from crying and he was just, he didn't care. She supposed she should be glad he seemed willing. She'd been horrified when she'd first read this part of the law, she was sure he would tell her she was too disgusting to touch and she would have to convince him to sleep with her-lest she lose her wand.

He stood and rounded the couch between them, his eyes still following the fidgeting motions of her body. Upon reaching her, he drew his wand. She saw the movement in the reflection of the window and her body whipped around, her own wand crushed into her palm. He was surprised for a moment before he realized she'd thought he meant to hurt her. The thought of any woman in his bedroom fearing him seemed wrong. It crushed him in a ruthless fashion he hadn't expected.

"What are you doing?" She sounded breathless, still terrified although the shock on his face had assured her he hadn't been trying anything she would disapprove of. His eyes bore into her for another moment before he tapped the tip of his wand to her temple and her hair pins unclasped and vanished, leaving soft ringlets to unravel onto her shoulders and back.

"They would have been uncomfortable." He followed it up with a contraceptive charm aimed at her waistline. She nodded in response but didn't put her wand away- he hadn't after all. Up close he could see the nervous bounce was more of a tremble that spoke in every limb of her body. She was scared. Well obviously, her wand was still at the ready after all. He should probably do something about that. His first thought was to cast a simple expelliarmus- but he realized that might not go over too well. He sighed before flipping his wand and extending his arm so that she could grasp the handle.

She took it. A mudblood, holding _his_ wand. Soon she'd be touching his _other wand_ too- he wasn't sure how he felt about that. She placed both of their wands at the table in front of the fireplace near the chair he'd just left before returning to their windowsill. Her hand briefly reached toward his face before her cheeks turned the color of her former house and she swallowed nervously. Her nose scrunched when she closed her eyes and when they opened again her right hand clenched with determination and her left finger tips tugged on his right.

If the situation wasn't what it was he would have laughed. He was about to fuck someone who was afraid to touch him. He was about to fuck Harry Potter's best friend. He was about to fuck Ron Weasley's ex-girlfriend. He was about to fuck a war heroine, someone who fought for the rights of house elves, a woman with enough patience to teach Longbottom how to brew polyjuice.

Someone he had watched his own family torture.

He didn't feel anything extraordinary. She felt like any other girl-soft, warm. Still, he was certainly curious about how she would be in bed. He wasn't sure when exactly she had become attractive, only that he shagged Pansy out of her mind after the Yule ball. If she had been a pureblood, hated Potter, been in Slytherin-perhaps even Ravenclaw, he was quite certain he would have liked her. As it all turned out, he was going to have her anyways. Without courting her even. He'd imagined what it would be like to court her once. He would have had to protect first years and never break any of the rules- there would be no shagging in the closets during classes or under the bleachers during Hufflepuff quidditch matches, and he certainly wouldn't have collected her from her common room. Parts of him were confused, enraged, disgusted but most of him was excited.

Hermione Granger was going to bed with him.

His hand slid up her forearm before administering pressure to her waist to pull her against him. He thought about kissing her straight away, but thought to undress her first. Kissing might take her mind off of what they were doing. It might have allowed her to relax a bit, but it would also make her less aware. When Draco was in bed with a woman, he wanted her to know _he_ was undressing her, wanted her to know who he was and what he was doing for every second of it.

The hand on her waist moved to unbutton the back of her gown while the other tilted her face towards his. Making her face him was a challenge, one he knew she wouldn't back down from. He was right. Her eyes were defiant, determined.

Hermione focused on the rise and fall of her chest. It was the only thing she could remember to do properly whilst waiting for him to say something cruel and make this more difficult. Her hands lay at her sides. If her face wasn't one thousand degrees above normal and her mind just as far below and numb, she would have thought to undress him the way he was her. As it was, she stood there breathing. Breathing in. Breathing out. All the breathing. To give herself some credit, she was also staring him down. Fiercely, she thought. He slid her dress off. Very fiercely. And bravely. It was both a fierce and a brave stare.

He took her hand as she stepped out of the gown now pooled at her feet. She was standing in a corset, thin panties and a garter when she realized her mistake and slapped away the hand reaching for her remaining clothing. She was not going to be naked while he stood fully dressed! _The_ _prat_. She slid her hands beneath the shoulders of his coat, leaving her thumbs on the outside so that the coat moved off him as her hands fell to his elbows and wrists. She kept the coat in her hands unsure if she should fold it or hang it on something or just let it fall to the floor. Draco solved her problem by grabbing the collar and tossing the garment over a chair back.

He sat on the bed before she could start on the buttons of his shirt; he undid the laces of his shoes before removing them, then his socks. Hermione pressed her heels against each of her opposite ankle straps to slip off her own. Her feet stuck to the floor a bit and left heated foot prints on the wood that disappeared soon after her foot left. She had planned to sit down beside him and her breath caught when she was jerked forward to straddle him. His fingertips pressed into her hips, spreading her legs and pulling her pelvis against his.

He loosened her corset and she raised her arms as he pulled it up and off of her body. Her breasts weren't particularly large but they were well rounded and the nipples were already hardening under his gaze. Hermione took advantage of his distraction and began to unbutton his shirt while she didn't have to stare him down. His chest was quite nicely-toned, smooth albeit there was a large scar from Harry's sectumsempra during their 6th year. He was rather intoxicating actually, so beautiful that she forgot who he was and that she was almost completely naked in front of him. At least until he shrugged the cloth away from him and revealed the ugly black mark that marred his skin. Her body went rigid and she turned away from him.

Now was a time for distraction, and so he gave her one. Draco shifted a hand to the side of her neck just behind her ear and brought their lips together. He licked and bit and sucked her lips until they parted, and removed her garter without her noticing and turning rigid. It was only when a finger grazed her panties that awareness seemed to return to her. She wrapped her hands around his wrists to still his wandering hands while she caught her breath. Her mind was straining to find a reason they should stop and she cursed under her breath when she looked down and saw the strain of his pants. Of course it would be up now. She could feel her own blood pulsing heat to just below her waist.

"I, um-" she breathed out, then back in. He got up and she grabbed his discarded shirt to cover her breasts.

"Do you need me to cover it?" What? Cover? His dark mark, right. She took hold of his arm before he could leave the bedside and pulled him back toward her.

"No." She felt as surprised as he looked at her response, so she worked out her reasoning aloud. "I can't, you…" She started over, "what we're doing is an act that exposes every part of ourselves. If I can't hide anything-neither can you."


End file.
